Father's Day
by MiniBlackRaven
Summary: Short stories about the father's of Young Justice and their children. Ch1: Black Manta/ Kaldur. Ch2: Artemis/ Sportsmaster. Ch3: Extra. Ch4: Conner/Clark. Ch5: Superboy, Clark, &Lex. Reviews and feedback welcomed.
1. Father's Day

Father's Day

**Featuring:** Black Manta and Kaldur'ahm

"_Father,"_

"_Yes son."_

_Kaldur'ahm__ hesitated for a second. "Father, I have a request."_

_Black Manta stopped and turned to face his long lost heir._

_A silent acknowledgment of consent allowed the son to take a nervous breath before saying, "When this is all over, when our business with the Light is complete, I would like for us to spend some time together._

"_We have been apart for so long, it would be nice to get to know you, outside of work that is."_

_Black Manta's brow creased as he considered his son's unusual request. Since becoming a father and son duo, __Kaldur'ahm__ had rarely requested anything, especially something as personal as this._

_Kaldur'ahm__'s stoic eyes remained steadfast as his father searched his face for the slightest motive behind the request._

"_When the Light have accomplished their mission, then we will talk ," was Black Manta's reply._

_He had no worries, no reason to fear. Father and son would have plenty of time to bond when it was all over._

_That was before things got complicated._

-o-

Black Manta's groans matched those of his ship as what remained of his crew scurried back to the darkest depths of the ocean. His body ached and groaned from the thoural lashing just hours earlier. He was getting too old for this.

Each time he faced the Justice League or any affiliates of that accursed group, he cam back with more battle scars and double the wait time until full recovery. That was partially why he was more than overjoyed to have his son join his coat of arms. He was young, agile, and more than perfect to take on the Manta family legacy.

Unfortunately, it seemed his son did not agree with that sentiment. Not only did Kaldur'ahm turn coat and return to the weak king's side, but he also used and betrayed Black Manta's good will and kindness to benefit his own personal agenda and mere beliefs.

Black Manta slammed a fist onto his desk and cringed at the searing pain burning away the inside of his flesh. Yet nothing could compare to the pain in his heart. IF felt like every organ had been violently ripped out of his body, and only his shell was left, doomed to walk the crushing depths of the ocean floor alone.

'How could this have happened,' he though, slumping down in his chair. The lies, the traitors, the double crossing, all of it so recent and yet so unreal. The Light had fallen and it's members were being held for high treason. Those few who had escaped capture, like Black Manta, were running as fast as they could to any dark corner small enough to be overlooked by the Justice League.

But Black Manta didn't want to run away and hide.

He wanted to morn.

He wanted to mourn the loss of his son once again. IF it hadn't been for the king, if it hadn't been for that Martin witch, everything would have been as it should have been, father and son, exploring the deep seas together.

But now, no more. No longer would the heir of Black Manta be of biological decent. No more hopes of retirement with visits from Kaldur'ahm. Not more dreams of grandbabies asking for stories of great plunder. No more hopes of ever connecting with his son.

Black Manta let out a lonely sigh as his son's first words echoed in his head.

"Father, father."

The first words he spoke as the Martian witch began to break her curse. Even now, those two words made his heart melt into a blubbering pile of sappy emotions.

'This is what it would have been like,' he remembered thinking back then. 'This is what it would have been like if we remained a family.'

He let out another sight and allowed his weary arms and body to slide over the desk. He turned his head at the soft noise of a piece of paper falling down to the ground. Reaching down, he opened the unlabeled folded paper and read it's contents.

_Father,_

_On the third Sunday of June, meet me under the pier at high tide._

-o-

All Kaldur'ahm could do at this point was pace and wait. He had prepared for this moment as best he could, and could only hope things didn't go half as bad as he imagined.

Yellow streaks of a new day grew up from beyond the horizon. Another day the world could sleep in innocent bliss. Kaldur had tried to keep track the days since he had rejoined his team, but that made the inevitability of this day harder to bear.

How would his father react? It tore at Kaldur's heart every time he remembered the last time he saw Black Manta's face. No words in English or Atlantean could accurately describe the sadness and despair on his father's face when he found out the truth. He had tried so hard to forget, but the image had been burned into his memory and tormented his every waking moment like molten lava

There wasn't even time for words of apology or regret. Everything happened so fast. One minute he was fighting alongside his father, like the dream team they were, the next moment Kaldur had turned his back on everything if father stood for. It was only by pure luck that he hadn't slain his father in the chaotic transition.

Underneath his bare feet, Kaldur felt a strange yet familiar rumble. He looked to the ocean and saw a familiar black vessel rise from the depths of the ocean. He straightened his jacket and walked toward the water. He had hoped Black Manta hadn't brought work to this special meeting, but the daunting size of the vessel allowed his mind to wander into dark places.

There was the familiar hiss of the hatch opening as Black Manta stepped out from the ship. Armor shined and ready for battle, he stepped off and walked toward his son.

They stood there, one in the water and one on land, both eyeing each other, waiting for the other's first move.

Nervous, Kaldur gulped and made the first move. "You are looking well, father."

"All things considering," said a harsh voice from beneath the all too familiar helmet.

Mustering up all his courage, Kaldur began as he had rehearsed so many times in his head. "Father, I-"

Black Manta held up a single hand. "No apologies necessary my son. In fact, it is I who should be apologizing to you."

A click and a soft hiss allowed him to remove the mantel and look straight into the eyes of his offspring. Kaldur gave his father a bewildered look as the elder continued to explain.

"Of all of the things I had done wrong as a father, I guess this just adds another one to the list," he said, placing his helmet down on the sand and walking toward his son.

"Leaving you alone, all that time while I attempted to fulfill my own desires, it's no wonder you turned out this way."

Placing his hand on his son's shoulder, he looked into his son's pale eyes with intense feeling, "But let it never be said that I am not proud to be your father."

"But," stammered a bewildered Kaldur'ahm. "I thought you would be angry."

"Not angry, disappointed." Black Manta said with a sigh. "There were so many things I wish we could do together, so much potential. But you have made your decision and chosen this path, and as long as you are content with your decision, as your father, there is nothing more that I could wish for.

"But if you ever feel like joining me again don't hesitate."

Kaldur'ahm smiled at his father, his tense shoulders finally relaxed with relief. "We can still do those things father. But maybe, not the way you imagined.

"I am glad you have come to terms with my decision,"

He reached into the folds of his coat and pulled out a small package. "I brought this for you, as a peace offering off sorts." Kaldur'ahm handed the thin box to his father who opened it cautiously.

"Today is a holiday that celebrates fathers and father figures," explained Kaldur'ahm. "Although we may not agree on many things, I wanted to give this to you as a sign of my gratitude and hope that we may better our relationship in the future."

Black Manta pulled out the gift and examined it carefully. The long red silken gift showed no apparent use besides looking … silky. "What is this?"

"My friends say it is traditional to give these as gifts to fathers. I believe it is called a tie."

Black Manta continued to glare at the cloth, almost daring it to do something as his son took the tie away from his father's reach.

"When men on land wear a suit, they have one of these around their necks. But I have also heard that when they are extremely happy about something, they wear it on their head," explained Kaldur'ahm replacing the now tied tie on Black Manta's brow.

"How does it look?" asked an earnest father.

"It… becomes you," replied the well-meaning son.

A noise from the decrepit ship drew their attention away from the present.

"I must go," Black Manta said, urgently picking up his helmet. "The men are getting impatient."

"Father," Kaldur'ahm called after him. "We must do this again."

Black Manta paused for a moment, the sea water lapping around his legs. "Yes," he replied, not turning back. "We must."

As Kaldur'ahm watched his father board the vessel, he called out one last time, "Father, Happy Father's day."

The father turned around and saw his son, his one and only son asking for a second chance. They may not be as they once were, and they may yet need to fight each other on the battlefield many times in the future, but his son was asking for one last chance to get to know him. The real him.

As rigid as the steel in his helmet, Black Manta replied, "Thank you son," before the hatch closed on him and the black ship disappeared once more beneath the waves.

-o-

Below the waves and every growing stillness of the deep, Black Manta's men turned their heads in bewilderment toward their leader.

Once seated in his rightful seat, the navigator turned to him for orders. "Captain?" he asked as both an acknowledgement of authority and as a question.

Atop the renown helmet, slightly cocked to one side as to fit over the brim, was a red silk tie, waving the colors of a proud father for all the world to see. "Full speed ahead son."

"Full speed ahead."

**A/N:** I meant for it to be better. I really did, but I wanted this to be out BEFORE the next episode completely ruined my made up cannon. Sorry for any spelling or grammar errors. Again, I wanted this out before the next episode.

Hopefully more to come that will be better, but don't cross your fingers. I write really slow.

Speculative cannon as of March 1, 2013


	2. Father of the Bride

**Father of the Bride**

**Featuring:** Jade, Artemis, and Sportsmaster

* * *

"You look beautiful Artemis," said Jade, stepping back to admire her glowing sister.

"You think so?" asked Artemis as she looked at the almost unfamiliar woman in the mirror. Contrary to how she felt, the young woman stood tall in the simple white gown. Her blond hair, usually in a ponytail, had been released from its captivity and coaxed into sexy curls that framed her face. The gentle diamonds and white veil on her head made her look like the ideal bride, despite the fact that she didn't feel like one due to lack of sleep.

"Of course you do," said Jade's reflection at the mirror's edge. "Wally would be an idiot to leave you for hero work looking that that."

"I hope so," whispered Artemis as she scrutinized the image. The dress and the hair, it didn't really feel like her at all. She was so used to having her hair slicked back, and pants-

But it was too late now. Her mother and Jade would have her head if she didn't walk down the aisle in anything but a wedding dress. And it had to be white. Both mother and sister insisted that it had to be white.

"Of course," said a mischievous Jade, pulling out a sharp shiny. "A little paralyzing poison never hurt anybody."

"Jade, you promised," cautioned Artemis.

"I'm kidding," teased Jade.

"I just don't want my baby sister to get hurt, that's all. Roy and I didn't have a formal wedding, so I want to make sure yours is perfect," she said, placing a comforting hand on her sister's bare shoulder.

Artemis looked at her sister, eyes steadfast and without doubt, ready for the most important mission of her life.

"I _am_ happy Jade," she said with a mix of confidence and compassion. "And I'm happy that you and Lian could make it."

Jade wiped some dust from the corner of her eye. "Only this once, understand. And only because it's family."

Artemis nodded, and Jade walked toward the door to make sure the guests were seated and the bridal party was ready. Even a master assassin faced difficulties when being the Maid of Honor.

It was almost surreal to have Jade around and at her side during the planning period. Once Jade heard Wally and Artemis were engaged, she dropped everything to make sure her little sister's big day was absolutely perfect. Jade had gone as far as putting the alias of Cheshire aside for the time so the two sisters wouldn't be at each other's throats in and out of costume. It almost made Artemis forget that her big sister was a cold-blooded assassin. And then there were those moments where Jade would pull out a sharp shiny if the smallest detail didn't go here way, forcing Artemis or Roy to intervene and calm her down.

"There's my beautiful daughter," Mr. West, her soon to be father-in-law, drew Artemis out of her trance.

"You ready for me to walk you down the aisle," he asked, beaming with joy.

"Thanks again for doing this Mr. West," she said with a slight blush. She still wasn't used to him call her _his_ daughter.

"How many times have I told you to call me 'father'?" he scolded her playfully. "And it's no trouble at all. It's the least I can do for the woman who was able to tame my son's wild appetite."

Artemis smiled. It was a secret joke between the two of them that she was marrying a stomach first, and a man second.

A heavy rap on the door pulled Rudy West away from the conversation. "How many times do I have to tell that boy, 'No, you can't see the bride before the ceremony no matter how fast you go.""

He opened the door to the sight of a large, bulky build filling up the frame.

"Move," said a deep voice. A fist flew through the air and knocked Mr. West back into the opposite wall.

"Mr. West!" cried Artemis, rushing over to the unconscious body.

"Nobody's walking _my_ baby girl down the aisle except me!" announced Sportsmaster, as he stepped through the threshold to the sacred room.

"Dad?" It only took one look to recognize her father under his mask despite the larger overcoat covering his body.

"You got some nerve girl. Not inviting your old man to your own wedding is one thing, but letting this loser walk you down the aisle when you're old man's much better suited. Now you're just asking for trouble," growled the villain.

Mr. West groaned as he sat up. Artemis let out a soft sight of relief. They wouldn't need to double the wedding as a funeral after all. But, they would have quite a crisis on their hands if something wasn't done about Sportsmaster.

Not only was Flash, Green Arrow, Batman, Wonder Woman, and Superman present at the ceremony, but almost all of the guest at the wedding were somehow related to the Justice League. A handful of heroes, mostly close friends, had even attended the event unmasked. It had taken Jade months to agree to keep quiet and not go ballistic at the sight of some of the "big hitters." Artemis could only hope that her father was half as easy to placate as her sister.

Knowing how stubborn her family was, she highly doubted it.

Touching her father-in-law gently on the should, she whispered, "Tell Wally and Jade what happened. They'll know what to do."

'I hope," she prayed quietly.

"Kinda hard to send you an invite," said Artemis, slowly moving away so Mr. West could make his escape.

"You never call. You never write. Heck, you don't even address your alimony checks."

"You got Jade involved in your shindig."

"Jade actually visits us once in a while. _And_, she can actually act civil at these types of events."

"And I can't?"

"You call this civil?" she exclaimed, motioning to the large dent in the wall and the door just as Mr. West's well polished shoes crawled out of sight.

"You crash my wedding, pummel my father-in-law, who, by the way, is no threat to you whatsoever, and then expect me to walk down the aisle with you looking like that!" she said, motioning to the long dark coat coving most of his body.

He glared at her from beneath the mask. Sportsmaster reached up to the top of his coat, and slowly began to release the buttons. There were no words to accurately describe Artemis' surprise at the sight of a well-fitted black suit. Formal, with not a speck of blood or rubble anywhere on the ebony fabric. The ends of a wells pressed tie hung lazily around his large neck and a small green handkerchief poked out from his breast pocket.

"This any better?" he asked.

She stood in shock before muttering one last excuse. "You're tie," she said, the heat and anger gone from her voice.

"Don't know how to tie one."

Glaring at him reluctantly, she walked to him and reached for the silken accessory.

"You're going to have to take the mask off too," she mumbled, moving her hands to make knows as if they were second nature.

"No way."

"Jade did it," said Artemis, tying the noose a bit too tight.

"…Fine…" relented Sportsmaster.

Artemis, satisfied with the answer and with her work, released her hold.

"Why do you even care about something as trivial as walking me down?" asked Artemis, walking toward the door in response to a soft knock.

"I gotta protect my rep," he mutter, vainly admiring his mask in the same mirror that last beheld Artemis.

* * *

Jade's face appeared at the edge of the door. She took one look at the man in the room and frowned. "Want me to call over some of the groomsmen? I don't think Kaldur would have a problem with kicking Dad's ass out of here."

Artemis looked back are her dad, vainly fixing his "mask hair".

"No," she said, after thinking for a moment. "Dad's actually trying this time. And, while I don't trust him, I think we should at least give him a chance."

Jade clearly did not agree with Artemis, but nodded in agreement. "Okay. I'll let the guest know that there's a slight change in the program."

"And remind them not to antagonize Dad," pleaded Artemis. "I'd rather not have to pay more for the church that I've already have.

"Get him to promise not to mess this up and I'll see what I can do," hissed Jade as she left to break the news and try to control the damage.

* * *

As Artemis walked back to try and brief Sportsmaster on the situation, he brought up, what he thought, was the most important question of the day. "Did he ask your mom?"

"What?"

"Did that son of a bitch stealing my baby girl, without my permission, ask your mom for your hand in marriage?" he asked with more contempt. "Sure as hell didn't ask me. I want to know if this wimp that I'll have to call my 'son-in-law' was man enough to ask for your hand or not."

Artemis was baffled. "Of course he did," she said, as if it was the most idiotic question in the world.

"That's all I needed to know," replied the big man as he turned around, suit and hair all nice and clean for the fantasy wedding Jade, Artemis, and Wally West had worked so hard on.

She took one look at her father, not blood, no bruises, no weapons, with just a hint of age at the edge of his face. It was almost as if she didn't come from a family of psychotic killers, for once.

"You clean up good Dad," she said before rushing to get the last minute touches before the music started.

"Only for you, baby girl," he whispered, watching his little girl get ready.

"Only for you."

* * *

**A/N: **OMG! I love these line spaces! (You can totally tell I haven't been on ff for awhile.) I really enjoyed writing this chapter. It was a lot easier to write than the first one. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews and feedback are always welcomed.


	3. Extra

**Chapter 2 Extra**

**Warning:** The following is an "extra" for, _Chapter 2: Father of the Bride, _that I thought was really cute and funny, but it didn't fit into the context or mood of the chapter. This chapter may include some moments where characters may not act like they're portrayal in the TV show. Just saiyan. Also, Wally is alive and getting married if you haven't read the previous chapter.

Ceased. Not deceased. There was no body, so you can't prove it! ... My denial runs deep.

Please enjoy at your own risk.

* * *

A slow and romantic song, picked out long ago, lead two couples around the dance floor. Mary West, mother of the now married Wally West, was trying her best to get her son to share the in special moment with no avail. What should have been a relaxed and friendly atmosphere was now tense with anxiety at the sight of Sportsmaster casually dancing his last dance with his baby girl.

Wally West, and almost every other hero in the room had their eyes fixed on mercenary, almost daring him to make a false move. Then, and maybe only then, could they take their hands of hidden utility belts and actually enjoy the company and celebration.

Kaldur'ahm also sat and looked at the mismatched couple, but a different look beheld his eye than one of contempt and aggression.

'How did Sportsmaster hear about the wedding,' he wondered. Kaldur'ahm had checked the guest list with Wally during the wedding preparation and could swear upon his king's staff that Sportsmaster's name appeared nowhere on the list. Suspicious, his eyes shifted to the man sitting beside him, enjoying the appetizers and drink with a little too much pleasure considering the situation.

"You wouldn't have anything to do with this, would you father?" asked Kaldur'ahm.

Black Manta patted his mouth with the white napkin, not caring if others saw his mischievous smile. "Well, considering how often we work together, something _might_ have slipped out."

* * *

**A few weeks prior to the wedding**

"What are you getting Tigress for her wedding present?"

"Huh"

"I was thinking a helmet that shoots out lasers. But then again, dish wear and cutlery are always a classic," mused Black Manta.

"What the hell are you talking about?" asked Sportsmaster. Apparently, Aqualad's double cross had made Sportsmaster the new confidant for Black Manta's 'father issues.' Sportsmaster didn't mind too much since their paths frequently crossed and both their children were allied with the Justice League. But sometimes-

"Didn't you hear?" asked Black Manta, pulling out a small white card from the inside of his armor. "Your daughter, Artemis, is marrying some kid named Wally West."

"What!" Sprotsmaster stood up in outrage.

"It's a shame," said Black Manta, "I really though Tigress and my son made a cute couple."

"Gimmie that," said Sportsmaster as he snatched away the invite. He glared at the silver embossed letters as if they were the ultimate challenge to the death.

"How," he asked.

"Well, Kaldur'ahm is a friend of the bride and groom. And, as her old employer, I was invited to the reception. Not to the actual ceremony mind you, but that's still not bad. Wonder if it's white tie-"

"No," growled Sportsmaster. "How the hell do you have one and not me!"

"Oh, you don't have one?" asked Black Manta. "I thought you would, since you're the father of the bride. Then again, I did hear from Kaldur'ahm that Mr. West would have the honor or walking the bride down the aisle since you're 'unsuitable' for the job."

"What!" exclaimed an infuriated father.

* * *

**On the day of the wedding**

Sportsmaster stomped through, what he considered, unnecessary noise and burst in the bride's room unannounced.

"Who the hell is unsuitable!"

* * *

**A/N:** I know that the converging part of the story is different, but like I said at the beginning, this is a fun little "extra" that just didn't make the cut. But I still think it's fun, cute, and worth publishing. Hope it all made sense and you enjoyed it. Next should be Superman and Superboy, but I make no promises as to when that will be done since I've barely started the rough draft.


	4. Fathers and Sons: Part I

**Fathers and Sons: Part I of II  
**

Featuring: Superboy/ Conner and Superman/ Clark

"_Superboy, you're on escort this week. Meet the subject at the café on fifth. He'll be sitting at the far end wearing a grey suit. When you meet him, make sure to give him this envelope and stick to him like glue. Good luck."_

* * *

June 2011

Superboy, or Conner when he was in his street clothes, looked at the steel building. He looked at the neon lights spelling out "Bibbo's Dinner." It reeked of old age compared to the more modern buildings lining the streets of downtown Metropolis, but the June sun reflecting it's early rays off the steel gave the building a kind of timeless feel. Almost as if you squinted hard enough, the dinner could be a gateway to a time lost long ago.

Despite the unusual appearance of the meeting place, Conner was too preoccupied with a heavy feeling in his gut to fully bask in the unique experience. Normally, everything felt featherweight, but every time he tried to lift his travel bag today, it felt like he was lifting the entire world on his shoulders. He had only packed what he needed for the weeklong escort mission, which wasn't much considering how little he owned, but it still bulky as hell.

Escort missions were not his thing. Batman knew this. Conner was a hands-on-beat-stuff-up kind of guy. Not a babysitter. He broke stuff, not protected stuff. If he did, there was no guarantee as to the condition it would be in after a fight. He had tried to object to Batman's assignment, but was given a look that said, "Shut up and deal with it."

Not wanting to prolong the anxiety anymore, he slung the bag over his shoulder with a sigh, and entered the daunting doors.

Business was just waning down from the morning rush. A few customers remained, but their minds and business were elsewhere. A man in a grey suit sat at the booth furthest away from the door. His face was buried in the newspaper.

'That must be the guy,' though Conner as he slipped into the seat opposite of the man in grey.

"Your late," said the man behind the newspaper. "Batman said you would be here promptly at-," he stopped as he lowered the paper and saw Conner in the opposite seat.

"I'm … supposed to escort...**you**?" asked Conner, slowly processing the situation in front of him.

It was like looking into a mirror, a mirror that showed him about fifteen to twenty years in the future, with large dorky glasses to boot. Both Conner and Clark Kent looked at the other for a moment and came upon the same conclusion with a frown.

"Batman," they groaned in unison.

"I'm sorry Sup- I mean, Conner. There must be some mistake," Clark started awkwardly. Nothing had happened since their meeting at the Watchtower in January, so the air around the two remained tense at best. "Bat, I mean, Bruce must have given you the wrong information. I was supposed to pick up a package and be on my way home for vacation. You're- a little big to be the package I was expecting," he said, eyeing the travel bag.

Conner tensed up. He didn't need telepathy to tell he wasn't wanted. Forget the mission. They had done this song and dance already; there was no reason to do it again. Reaching into his back pocket, he dumped a yellow envelope onto the table. A corner clinked against the half-empty cup of coffee.

"Is this what you were expecting?" he asked as he left in a huff. Mission or not, he was not going to be a pawn in Batman's 'big plan.'

"Conner!" Clark called after the boy. Too late. The soft ringing of the doorbell was muffled in the sound of the slamming door.

Clark sighed. Some days he felt he was too old to be doing the whole "superhero" business. Kids these days were just so-

He opened up the envelope of classified information. Clark skimmed the documents and images with little interest until something specific caught his eye.

* * *

Infuriated at the deception, Conner walked into an empty corner of the parking lot and called out on his communicator.

"Superboy to cave."

"Go ahead," replied a robotic voice.

"Where's Batman?" he asked the android.

"Batman has his own private affairs to attend to," replied Red Tornado.

"Well," he said with utmost contempt for the dark knight."Tell him that I'm not completing this mission."

There was a confused, more like processing pause, before Red Tornado replied, "Elaborate."

"He set me up to escort Superman."

Another pause to process the information. "Is there a problem?"

He rolled his eyes in frustration. Conner felt like he was dealing with the most inept android on the entire face of the planet. "Yes, there is a problem. The problem is Superman can escort himself to wherever the heck he needs to go. He doesn't need me, and he doesn't want me!"

"Superboy, Batman gave you a mission. Even if the mission is to escort Superman to and from his destination, you are expected to complete the mission despite what you may feel for him," replied the Tornado with no indication of understanding or compassion for Conner's situation.

"But,"

"Your reasoning is flawed," interrupted the heartless robot. "Complete the mission and only call if there is an emergency."

The com shut down with a loud click. Frustrated, Superboy wrenched out the device and threw it down onto the black pavement. It broke on impact.

He grunted in frustration and sat down on the pavement. "Now what?" he asked himself. He didn't have a ride back to the cave and he sure as hell didn't want to go back and finish the mission.

"Uh, Conner," a nervous voice from behind called to him. Conner turned around and saw an anxious Clark trying to make an effort.

"How would you feel about a road trip?"

* * *

"Took you boys long enough," said Jonathan Kent, a wide smile across his face.

"Sorry Pa, long drive," replied Clark, greeting his Earth father with genuine affection. "Would have gotten her sooner, but I had to take the long way," he said, motioning to Conner as the boy stepped out of the car.

"So many corn fields," Conner looked over the vast farmland. It was one thing to know Kansas and the states surrounding it were farmland, it was another to experience it. Plants and agriculture were interesting, but the novelty wore off after the second or third hour of sameness.

Pa Kent nudged Clark in the ribs. "So, you going to tell me who the kid is or what?"

Clark's face went blank. He had a hard enough time trying to make sense of it himself, let alone explain the complicated situation to his father. "He's…uh… Well… Conner is… uh-"

"So Conner is it?" Jonathan went over to shake the youth's hand. "Your big brother treating you well so far?"

"Big brother?" asked a confused Conner.

"From the Big Brothers Big Sisters program Clark is helping out with." He gave Clark a wiry look. "You should have called and told us to expect extra company."

Clark was a bit surprised at the lie. "I tried, but the line was busy."

Pa shook his head. "Don't worry about it too much. A sponsor named Bruce Wayne called a couple of hours ago. Said you would be bringing Conner home so he could get away from the city and spend some time with you."

Clark groaned. Was Batman one step ahead of him in everything?

"Now, Ma's gone back to the store to stock up on food for our newest member of the family, and I've get a couple of chores for you youngsters to help me with during your stay. My back ain't what it used to be so any help would be much appreciated."

"But Pa,"

"I know that the paper and your second job have worked you thin, but humor an old man a little boy. The soil is hard this year, and I think I've pulled a muscle or two in my back. Besides," he said, motioning to Conner. "You got young help.

"Barn roof needs to be replaced, "called Jonathan over his shoulder as he walked toward the truck parked in the driveway. "New shingles are by the side of the barn and you know where the tools are."

"But Pa!"

"I'm going to pick up Ma, but I'll be back in a bit," Pa Ken said as he closed the door. "Have fun boys," he said before driving off in a cloud of smoke, finalizing the conversation.

"Pa!" Clark was in a bit of a panic. If the information from the package was correct, this wasn't the time or place for "father, son" bonding time.

"Well," asked an impatient Conner. "What now?" According to his tone, he still hadn't forgiven Clark from his earlier actions.

Clark looked at the dust cloud as it settled along the long road. He could catch up with it, easy, but the long drive had worn him a bit thin. He was used to _flying_ that distance, not _driving_. "Why don't we just get started," he said, giving up being Superman for the moment.

Conner folded his arms in rebellion. "My mission is escort only."

Clark looked at the boy and said in a cross tone, "Mission or not, on a farm, everyone helps out."

* * *

Eventually Conner submitted to the expectations of country life and climbed up to help tear off the old roof. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't a bother having Conner around. Far from it. When Conner wasn't complaining or being stubborn, he was a quick learner and great help with the roofing process, though the air between the two remained awkward.

On New Year's Day, it had taken all his courage just to thank Superboy for his work. But that was work. Here, at home, on unstructured terms, it was so much harder. How should he start? What would they talk about? What _could_ they talk about? Would he have to give his son "the talk" already? This was all happening too soon for him to handle. He needed time to come to terms with these sort of things, but that was a luxury that had flown far away long ago.

As a father, what would he need to do or say? Was it too late for any of this? The anxiety behind these questions held him captive from actively engaging with his clone. And each new day on the calendar just reminded him of the days and chances lost to him.

"Can't we just rip it off?"

"What?" the question pulled Clark out of his damning thoughts.

"The roof. I mean, pulling out the nails individually works okay, but can't we just use our super strength to tear up the entire thing? Be much faster."

"Faster, but not less work," replied Clark, floating up to Conner's position on the roof. He had since changed into a plain white t-shirt and jeans. The dorky glasses were hidden safely in a pocket, just in case.

"This barn's been here as long as I can remember, and then some. It's survived storms, tornadoes, even a few of my accidents from back when I was getting a hold of my powers. All things considering, I don't know if the beams underneath could withstand the blunt trauma of _two_ supers."

"Oh," Conner turned back to his work, dejected. "Forget I said anything."

Clark twitched. He hadn't meant to shut Conner down so quickly. Feeling small and venerable, he tried again.

"It's not a bad idea," he said, trying to salvage the first meaningful conversation they had shared in moths. "I suggested it to my Pa way back in the day when I was no older than you"

Conner raised an eyebrow.

"Sixteen years, I mean. Not-" Clark cut himself off mid blabber. He blamed his nerves for the nonsensical tangents.

"What did he say?"

Clark looked up from his shame and saw Conner, keenly interested in the story. He was taken aback. He hadn't expected Conner to be interested in a story set in the times of long ago.

"Uh- well," Clark tried to recall the moment. "Pa said, 'Son, there are some things in this world that can't be don't right without hard work. Not even powers can change that.'"

"What happened after that?"

"Pa made me finish the old fashioned way," said Clark, returning to his work. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Conner slump at the anti-climatic ending.

A though sparked in his head. A daring and dangerous though, but a thought, a thought that he should continue.

"He even made me put in the new nails with a hammer, if you can believe it," he said, regressing a few years. "Think about it, Superman, the strongest person in the world using a hammer on a tiny nail? I can punch through walls like they're nothing, and yet Pa still insisted that I had to funnel all my energy through a tedious tiny hammer.

"I once said that I feel like I'm living in a world made of cardboard. One wrong move, and poof, everything destroyed. Even the roof." Clark recalled how aggravating it was in his teens, having to hold back every single moment of his life, knowing he could show everyone up in two seconds flat. How easy it would have been to tear the roof off the barn, piece by piece, only to be reprimanded and forced to do it the "human" way. Age was one of those things that brought clarity to his adolescent impulses, but the urges never really went away.

"I know what you mean," said Conner. "Sometimes, when I hold M'gann, I feel like I might break her if I hold her too tight. I won't go as far as to say she's made out of cardboard, but glass or a fine china vase may be a better description."

"Same with Lois," said Clark. "When I told Pa, he laughed and said every man feels that way about the woman he likes, but I think it's more literal to me than Pa." Realizing the connection, he finally relaxed a bit and smiled.

"Nice to know I'm not alone on this issue."

"I guess even Superman has problems," Conner mumbled aloud.

Clark's smile dropped. It had finally come to this. "Conner I-"

"No, it's okay. I get it." Conner interrupted, as if he could read into Clark's psyche. " You don't have to – you know. The team's been good to me. They've been helpful in getting me acclimated to life outside, and Black Canary has been really helpful in showing me how to channel my strength and use the assets I do have instead of morning for the ones I don't. Batman is, well, Batman, and Tornado and the others try to help me where they can.

"But, it would be nice to, you know, have someone else who really gets you," Conner turned towered his father, trying one last time to make a connection that would bind them beyond the next sunrise. Something, anything to make up for lost time.

For the first time in his life, Clark felt like Atlas from Greek mythology. As strong and as stubborn as he was, he would never be free of a weight named Conner. He finally allowed his ego to be crushed under the weight and submit to the truth.

"I can," replied Clark. "It's not that I don't want to, I just don't know how. What if I do something, say something, that messes you up for life? What if I'm not a good father?"

"Then we deal with it," quoted Conner. "Besides, I've already got Tornado, Batman, and Canary as parents. I don't need one more."

They both sat on the roof in deep though at a possible solution. Pulling from recent memory, Conner threw out a suggestion. "What about a big brother?"

Clark raised an eyebrow at the seemingly random idea.

"You know, from Batman's 'Big Brothers Big Sisters program.'"

Clark sat back on the tiles a little surprised. But then he smiled, and his body relaxed. "Big brother," he said, allowing the idea to marinate in the pure country air. "I could get used to that."

* * *

A/N: If you've made it this far, you know it meanders in the middle, sorry. I just had a really hard time capturing their relationship, so I felt I had to build it up slowly. That and it was really hard to write the dialogue for them. I hope I did it justice. There is a part with Lex Luthor as more of a main character, but it will be in the part 2. It's already written up, but let me know if you'd like it in a week or two weeks from now.

Thanks for all of the reviews and feedback. Whenever I have a really bad day or I don't feel like writing, seeing people respond to my work makes the day a little brighter. Any other reviews, feedback, or constructive criticism would also be much appreciated.


	5. Fathers and Sons: Part II

**Fathers and Sons: Part II of II & Extras  
**

Now Featuring: Lex Luthor and Jonathan Kent

_"Clink, clatter, clink,"_ went the dishes in the Kent dining room. It was a little crowded, but somehow Jonathan and Martha had made room for Clark, Superboy and Lex Luthor at their dinner table usually meant for two.

Lex Luthor was in the area for business and, not knowing it was Superman's archenemy, got invited to dinner by Jonathan Kent. Conner was recognized as Superboy with no problem, but Clark was just quick enough to put on his glasses and fool his foe. (Just go with it. I don't feel like writing about how they met and it really isn't important to the story.)

Both parents knew the secrets of their adopted sons, but having their son's archenemy join them for a civil dinner, completely oblivious to the situation, made conversation difficult at best.

Martha Kent was the first to break the post prayer silence. "It's wonderful for you to join us for dinner Mister Luthor."

"Please," replied the rich man with a tone so elegant it could melt gold. "The pleasure is all mine. I haven't had a home cooked meal in a long time."

"I can imagine," Jonathan Kent piped in. His wife and sons were still sore that he had made friends with the enemy. "You business types are always so busy working, it's a wonder you have time to eat at all."

"I manage," replied Luthor with a bit of pride. "Actually, I might have to say the same for you Mr. Kent. Looking at how well your farm is doing, I would say you work just as hard as I do."

"Maybe, but we simple folk know when it's time to work and when it's time to rest."

"Indeed," said Lex, eying Clark. "I see your son has finally taken the advice to heart."

Clark sputtered and coughed at the remark.

"City life too rough with you?" mocked the well established.

"No," said Clark, whipping his mouth with a napkin. "Just needed a short break. That's all." Considering all the chaos and stress over the missing 16 hours it was a miracle 'Clark Kent' hadn't broken anything besides pencils and the occasional story.

"Well, I still find it surprising that your idea of 'getting away from it all' involves bringing a little ball of problems home with you."

Conner twitched at the derogatory comment.

"Not everyone views children as problems, Luthor." Clark said, a bit of Superman anger breaking through his alias.

"Of course not, "said Luthor with a smile. "You just have to know how to control them."

Superboy stood up, shaking the table as he pushed his chair back. Martha and Jonathan Kent instinctively picked up their dishes off the table. A reflex they had developed from many tables and pounds of broken dishes caused by super powered accidents of adolescence.

Superboy looked at Lex Luthor with a burning rage strong enough to grant him heat vision. "Nobody controls me," he spat. Superboy stomped up stairs to the guest bedroom making dust fall from the rafters with each footstep.

A silence fell with the dust and blanketed the entire room. Jonathan and Martha looked at each other and, without a word, cleaned off the table and walked into the kitchen.

"What is wrong with you?" asked Clark. He rarely got angry as his alter ego, but this was different.

"He needed to hear it eventually," said Luthor casually. "All people are under some sort of control: morally, finically, politically, religiously, or otherwise. Might as well learn the truth from his father."

Clark eyes narrowed. "You are not his father."

A smug looked morphed Luthor's face. The journalist was about to get the scoop of the century. Something so shocking that it could tarnish Supermans' good name forever. "Biologically, yes I am. The boy is a clone of Superman, but he has my DNA and my superior intellect. And, while he might reject me now, I'm planning to have him take on my legacy after I retire. Provided the boy plays his cards right of course."

Clark was seething with anger. It took all he could to keep the monster inside him at bay. "Superboy would never do such a thing."

"Don't be too sure," challenged the card dealer. "See, before his rebellious stage, Superboy used to obey anything I asked of him. It wouldn't be that hard to make him obey me again."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"You don't have the right." Clark stood up from his seat.

"And you do?" he scoffed. "What are you? His father? Superman? Your nothing to him! Just a voluntary Big Brother who would cast him off at the first sign of trouble. And who could blame you. You're human. He's not.

"But me, I have the means, the money, the resources to make him into the ideal hero to protect our God give American rights." He stood up and looked at Clark square in the eyed, and dared him with a look. "What gives you the right to tell me, his genetic father, what I can and can't do?"

Studded into silence the human, Clark Kent, fell back into his seat. Luthor looked at the defeated man with a slimy smile. "That's what I thought," he gloated.

"Pie?" asked the ill-timed Martha Kent, breaking the tense atmosphere.

Maybe it was the sweet smell of apple and cinnamon that warped Luthor's face from one of an aggressive businessman to a lovable political figure. "No thank you Mrs. Kent. I actually need to go now. I'm finishing the deal with Mr. McDonald tomorrow and I need to be up bright and early to finalize all the details."

"Oh, so you're the one buying the McDonald's farm. "

"Correct," replied the bald man as he slipped into his black blazer.

He turned to the door and paused for a moment. Then, he turned back to Martha and gave her his best business smile. "Are you sure you're not open to me taking this farm off your hands? You and your husband are getting up in age. Perhaps it's time for you two to retied. It could propose a nice settlement for the property. Nice enough for the two of you to live in the luxury of Florida or Hawaii."

"Oh, I don't know."

"I would be one less thing for Clark to work about . His parents are taken care of and you two can enjoy your last days in peace and relaxation."

Jonathan, hearing the offer for the second time that day, came up behind his wife and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for the offer Mister Luthor, but I think my wife and I will do just fine these last few years," he replied with a country style business smile.

"Of course," said Luthor, nodding at them minor defeat. "If you'll excuse me then."

Clark felt the familiar stare of his mother's eyes demanding his attention. He turned to face her and she, in turn, ordered him to get up and show their guest out. Her glare said, 'Superman may have problems with Lex Luthor, but Clark Kent has no such quarrels. Show your manners boy!'

Clark mentally grimaced as he got up and showed their guest the exit, like the good host he was.

"Thank you for coming over," said Clark, opening the door a little wider than necessary.

Luthor smiled. The embers of their conversation were still alive and burning.

"I've always liked you Kent. But if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from the boy. He's a million dollar secret weapon that I'd like to keep secret, if you get my drift."

His insides seethed with rage. "I'll keep that in mind," he said with a forced calm.

* * *

"Where's the boy?" asked Pa, sitting on the porch on his sittin' chair.

"Out, I heard him take off after Luthor and I started arguing," said Clark, joining his adopted father.

"Must be nice to have super hearing sometimes. Wish I had that when you were a youngster."

"Yeah."

Clark tried to enjoy the moment for what it was worth: the clean country air, the glowing sun as it sank behind fields of green, but something kept bugging him.

"How do you do it Pa?"

"Do what?"

"Well, parent." Superboy considered it a dead topic since settling it earlier in the visit, but it hadn't given Clark the closure he felt he needed.

"Conner and I are both surprises that 'fell out of the sky,' so why do I feel like you and Ma are better parents than Luthor or I ever will be?"

"Meaning what son?"

"Meaning what do I do Dad? What do I need to do to be a good father?"

Jonathan let out a long sigh. What would his answer be to the great question all caring fathers asked when a planed or surprised child was on the way?

"Try your best," he finally said. "Teach him right from wrong and support him any way you can."

"But what if I do wrong? What if I do something that messes him up for life?"

"You mean what happens if you make a mistake?"

Clark nodded. The man who was Superman was clearly not ready to be Super Dad, but in situations similar to what Clark described, few fathers were ready.

"Then you learn," replied Pa Kent. "And you learn to love him for all he is, whether he's Kryptonian, human, or both. That's just part of being human."

Despite doubts sill plaguing his mind, Clark felt some level of relief.

"Thanks' Pa," he said. "I'll try to do you proud."

* * *

**Extras**

**Warning:** Enter the gay parentage shorts. You have been warned.

After the fight… (alternate universe)

"Is he gone?" asked a widdle bitty Conner Kent. He clutched a white wolf plush in his arms as he walked down the stairs. With the sleeve of his black one-piece pajama he rubbed his sleepy eyes.

"Yes, Kon-El, he's gone now," said Superman, bending down to pick up his four-year-old son.

"What happened?" Kon-El asked, his big blue eyes staring up, begging for answers.

"Mommy and Daddy just got into a little fight, that's all."

"Is Mommy okay?" he asked, touching the soft skin of his mommy's face.

"Yeah," said Kal-El, taking the tiny hand in his own. "Mommy's okay.

* * *

On the porch, at the end of the story…

"By the way Clark."

"What is it Pa?"

"Who approached who first?"

"Huh?"

"I know Luthor wouldn't be able to carry the baby, but could he at least have popped the question before the birth? It ain't right to have a child out of wedlock in these parts."

"Good God Pa, you are not implying that-"

Back inside the house, Martha Kent was hard at work sewing together cute clothes for her year-old grandbaby.

* * *

And to clear up any confusion about the farm...

Old McDonald had a farm.

E-I-E-I-O

And on that farm Lex-Louthor-bought-the-land-so-he-could-make-LexCo rp-Farm-for-the-future-Reach-invasion.

...

E-I-E-I-O

* * *

A/N: Hoped you enjoyed this two part story and the shorts. This will probably be the last story of the series unless I get some time off to write, along with some inspiration. I've got stories with Zatana and Bart Allen, but the format seem to be too much of the same thing and I'm not quite sure if anyone would be interested in reading a fic with those characters.

Either way, thank you for reading my stories and coming along for the ride. It was short, but I had a lot of fun. I hope you did too.

MBR


End file.
